Open

I could stare at you forever. Even just a photo. Your face, I love it, it pulls me. My hands feel like they used to know your face.

I can't hep but love you for helping me accomplish my dream. For giving me my dream even though it's too much work. It might not pay off. And it's a difficult emotional situation.  You are taking my baby from me and giving her all the things I wanted to provide but couldn't. I hope you will fight for her. I believe you will.

How could I not love you just for that?

Throw those eyes, your smell, your voice, your mind, your energy, your sexuality and passion in top of that and, well. Game over.

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I'm trying to be open to the new. And not dwell on you. I really am.

But maybe I don't have to.  I mean you came in like a roaring train to make lane vaporize into thin air and I'm pretty sure I wasn't actively trying to be open and manifest you.  You were not a conscious choice.

My higher self must be immensely grander than I thought.